Douceur de Vivre
by AnisaLee
Summary: BadBoy!Blaine.  Frank, honest and sexual. Blaine is an escort working in New York City when he meets a fresh faced Kurt Hummel, brand new to the city.  This is his story.
1. Prologue

A/N: A few things. This is inspired by Belle du Jour's "Secret Diary of a Call Girl." It was originally written for another fandom, but has been adapted where it works so much better for Klaine. Thanks so much for reviewing! :)

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><p>One thing I'm always asked is where I'm from.<p>

Simple enough question, I admit. But the truth is to answer that question takes a lot more than a city name. It takes a lot more than a one word answer. You'd think it'd be easy to just sputter out something like New York or Los Angeles or whatever. But I look at it as a question of what my life was like before I got here. That's a harder question to answer because people always want to assume that I was raised in a broken home. That I was a foster care kid. That I was a victim of a drug attack that turned into a shiny addiction. That I was just some kid given a crap deal.

I wasn't.

I was raised in a pretty much privileged life. Upscale kid who came from a well-to-do family. I'm not going to bore you with my family's income or status. It's irrelevant to well, really anything. I don't take their money. At least, I haven't for a very long time, but there was a time when I did. It was almost as if they were buying me off. I know what you're thinking, poor little rich kid. I was. My parents split up and got back together so many times that it became almost a joke. There was a time when I thought it would be funny if my mom introduced her boyfriend to my dad's girlfriend. I could just imagine us all sitting around the dinner table at Christmas and acting like one big happy family. It'd be a really fucked up episode of "The Brady Bunch." I'd say something like, "mom can you ask your boyfriend to pass the carrots, oh and by the way dad can you ask your girlfriend to hand me a roll."

One time, I had someone tell me that my dysfunctional home life may be a key reason to why I'm here now. That I had some deep-rooted feelings of resentment towards my missing childhood. That I shouldn't be doing what I do now because it was destructive behavior. Funny thing is within about five seconds he had given me $300 to indulge in these "destructive" behaviors for an hour.

Oh yeah, if you haven't guessed by now I'm an escort or rent boy or whore. Whatever. A fuck is a fuck is a fuck, right? No sugar coating it. I sleep with men for money. I'm not ashamed of it. Some boys get really hung up on the title. I guess the word escort sounds better than prostitute or whore. However, at the end of the day each and every one of us spreads our legs for cash.

Why do I do it? Me, a wasp kid from a suburban city in Ohio? Well the money's nice, but most of all it's exciting. Think about it. If I were to have a boring desk job at some company, I'd go in at the same time and leave at the same time. I'd wear the same clothing to work every day with the same people. Sounds monotonous.

In my line of work I can almost re-invent myself every time. Sometimes I'm dominate and in charge and others merely a submissive. I also have a change of scenery. One hour I may be at a luxurious hotel and the next in some CEO's private bathroom on Madison Avenue overlooking the city.

Who am I?

Depends on who you ask. To friends, I'm Blaine Anderson, Broadway production assistant. To clients I'm simply Angelo, the one who can unlock the door to their wildest fantasies.


	2. Chapter 1

I'm afraid I might have deceived you before. I'm not actually a Broadway production assistant. Well, technically I was when I first moved here. I graduated from the Dalton Academy for Boys High School where I sang lead with the school's glee club, the Warblers. Everyone said I would make it on Broadway. I had the talent and the look. Hell, I even managed to make myself the soloist for the Warblers when I was only a sophomore. I ran that glee club and everyone knew it. I won that school four regional titles and two national wins.

After high school, I decided to forgo college and moved to New York thinking I'd step off the plane and walk right into a leading Broadway role. I was offered a job by one of the theatres as a production assistant on Broadway right after graduation. I was sure I was on my way to the top. Visions of top billings at the Gershwin and the Shubert danced before my eyes.

Then reality set in. This job had reduced me to getting stale coffee and water for actors and crew. I loaded sets and cleaned the theatre after shows. I taped the names of actors on their assigned dressing room doors, knowing that it should be my name on one of those doors. My life was anything but the glamorous style I envisioned.

Within a few months I was done. I gave my notice to my boss and he didn't even seem to care. No love loss there. There were a hundred kids out there who'd happily take my place, thinking that a casting director would just notice them.

It wasn't until I was walking home from the A train that I realized what I'd done. No job meant no money which meant no rent. The little I had in savings was enough to sustain me for exactly seven more months, but after that it was either admit defeat and go back to Ohio or find another job. I could have gone to my parents, but I needed to prove to them that I could do it.

For weeks I scoured the want ads in the newspaper and online. I wrote tons of cover letters that would only be filled away in the trash can. I was a temp through an agency for a while, but answering phones and filing had never been my forte.

You may ask how I went from that to being an escort.

It was almost flawless of a transition that to this day I wonder how it all happened.

Oh, before we go any further, the first thing you should know is that I'm gay. You'd think it would be obvious in my line of work. Men fuck other men for money, but sometimes they aren't always of the homosexual persuasion. Kind of an oxymoron really. You're gay but not really. You'd be surprised at how many men will turn gay for pay.

Anyways, I had gone out to a local gay dive club one night. At that time I was not well-versed in the acts of underground sex and prostitution. So, I decided to use the bathroom and somehow my first ever client confused me for one of the kids who turned tricks there on a regular basis. I guess I was too stunned to do anything when he grabbed my hips and pushed me into a stall. It wasn't until he was on his knees that I realized what was happening.

He sucked me off and gave me $50. Out of any emotion that I could fathom at the time, the first thing that came to mind was relief. Relief that I had some money to help out with rent. The next was one of pure excitement. I had let a complete stranger blow me in a dingy bathroom and got paid for it. Part of me wondered why I didn't feel guilty about the whole thing. Wasn't I supposed to feel dirty?

But I didn't.

Several weeks later I hooked up with a few kids who knew the ins and outs of the underground sex industry. They told me in no uncertain terms that if you wanted to make it you needed to work for Ralph. He brought in the big clients and his reputation was impeccable. It took me half a year to get a meeting with Ralph. He was very particular of who he hired.

I got that call from Ralph on a Sunday morning. I was just stepping out of the shower when my phone rang. He wanted to meet me in a small cafe in Chelsea. Very discreet. No fanfare. Don't be late.

After I hung up, my next thought was what the hell I was going to wear. How do you dress when you're going to be interviewed by a man who is essentially going to be contracting you out for sex?

With a black sweater and my best pair of jeans on, I found the cafe. No one was inside and it unnerved me a bit. Was this a police sting? Was I going to go to jail? Trying to be as invisible as possible, I slipped into a back booth. A middle aged waitress came around and poured me a coffee. It was cold.

Twenty minutes later a man that looked like he could be part of the Italian mob walked in. Salt and pepper hair slicked back from his face. He slid into the seat across from me and it wasn't more than two minutes before Ralph got down to business.

_"You look young. I don't deal with miners."_

_I nodded and assured him that I was indeed legal._

_"You a virgin?" _

_"No," I shook my head._

_"Good," He smiled, "Blood's not appealing to most of my clients."_

_I nodded, not sure what to say. _

_"You do anal?" _

_"Thought that was already an unspoken rule in this line of work," I commented._

_He smiled, "I like you kid. I'll be in touch."_

With that Ralph was gone. It was precisely three weeks later when he called me again with my first client.

Okay, I guess the second thing you need to know about me is I'm considered high class. Very high class. I don't walk the streets at night looking for the next warm body any more. Men who want me have to make an appointment with Ralph. Simply put, only men who can afford my services will get my services.

It's not that I'm trying to sound like an asshole. It's just the way it is. Having worked in this industry for a while now, I've learned how to go from a boy turning tricks to an escort extraordinaire. I've had a lot of trial and error in my days and it's all about moving on. Something I've had to do since moving from Ohio.

At one time I thought I was running towards something and maybe I was. A career, a sense of belonging...but a part of me was running away. It all started when I came out, but that's another story for another day.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks everyone. I received over 200 alerts/favorites which is wonderful :) But only 2 reviews? Please guys review. It makes me want to write faster and keeps me motivated. **


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